


The Romantics

by PetraTodd



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Babysitter Sherlock, Baker Street sex, Bondage, Established Relationship, F/M, Ficlet Collection, Fluff, Oral Sex, Parenthood, Threesome - F/M/M, Vaginal Sex, Warstan
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-27
Updated: 2014-03-03
Packaged: 2018-01-13 22:18:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 2,679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1242631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PetraTodd/pseuds/PetraTodd
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of short Warstan fics, based on anon prompts and originally posted on Tumblr. (One chapter will be the noted threesome.) See each chapter for descriptions!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Dada

**Author's Note:**

> Chapter 1 is rated K, with Uncle Sherlock stopping by to babysit Mary and John's little girl.

"Why won’t she say it? It’s not that hard. Does she like you better?" John pouted and pulled a silly face for the fussy female lying on the blanket.

_"Mama!"_

"Oh, stop, she adores you. Her eyes follow you everywhere." Mary scooped their daughter up and rubbed her back.  The baby wriggled happily and squeaked in her mother’s arms. "She’ll say ‘dada’ soon enough. Her development is on track and you know it, Doctor Watson."

"I do," he replied, kissing the soles of his daughter’s bare little feet.

She giggled and kicked. “Mama-mama!”

John sighed with a pained expression. “Da-da-da-da! Keep trying, Annie.”

"We’ll work on it," Mary said, shaking her head ruefully. "Oh what time is Sherlock coming over? Are you sure he really wants to do this?"

"Why not? He’s watched her by himself before. He should be here by 8." John shrugged, and glanced at the clock. "Which is…oh shit, now. I’ve got to find my tie. Anyway, he volunteered. He’s practically her uncle. You fed her already, she’ll be asleep most of the time. And I would like to spend some quality time with my wife." He kissed Mary, who nodded.

The doorbell rang, but before John could respond, the door opened and their unconventional babysitter let himself in.

* * *

  
Mary and John practically floated home hours later after a long dinner, stuffed full of seafood and champagne and eclairs. They snogged in the taxi like horny teenagers, and arrived at their flat to find Sherlock stretched out on the sofa with a peaceful child cuddled on his chest.

Sherlock was flipping through a journal of pathology when they walked in. “We had a productive evening. And you had Lobster Thermidor, and a cabbie with a nail-biting problem.”

"Yep. Any problems?"

"Nope." Sherlock slowly sat up, shifting Annie into John’s awaiting arms. He carried her into her bedroom, and laid her gently into her crib. She yawned, mumbled for a moment, and then settled back into sleep.

"Productive how?" John asked as Sherlock donned his coat to leave.

"Oh, Mary mentioned your problem with Annie calling for her and not for you. I fixed it." Sherlock smiled proudly. "It’s really just a matter of positive reinforcement of vocal repetition. Some Pavlov, a little bit of Skinner. No box, of course. Hardly thought that was necessary."  He winked at Mary and ducked out the door. "Goodnight, Watsons!"

* * *

  
In the morning, Annie’s gleeful shrieks woke them early as usual. She grabbed the bars of her crib and bounced on her mattress, shouting, “Mama! Mama!” until Mary groaned. 

"Nah, I’ll get her." John kissed his sleepy wife who murmured a thanks, and headed for their daughter’s room.

It occurred to John that Sherlock might actually have been successful with his little training experiment, and he felt excited as he opened the door. Annie beamed as she spotted her father’s face and threw her arms up to be lifted from the crib.

Her little lips formed a perfect pink O as she opened her mouth and shouted-

"JAWWWWN!"


	2. Longing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rating: Mature/Explicit
> 
> Original Prompt...more or less: Some people mistakenly believe that in Arthur Conan Doyle's canon, Watson would abandon his wife for months for cases.

“Did you miss me?” John whispered, crawling under the blanket and slipping his arm around the yawning woman. His cold feet bumped her leg, and Mary was startled into full awareness.

“Mmm you’re back.” She rolled into her husband’s embrace, sliding an arm around his waist. “A good case?”

“Fantastic.” He nuzzled her throat. “I hate being gone so long but it was a 9. The court case for this one’ll make the papers. It took ages to run the bastard to ground. Had to watch his place and wait for him to make a move once we’d worked out his system of secret messages.”

John slipped underneath the covers and busied himself with her nightdress. Mary smiled as she felt the fabric bunching around her waist. She opened her knees, making space for her husband to settle between them comfortably in his favorite spot. He nestled between her legs on his elbows, placing tender kisses on the soft skin of her inner thighs while regaling her with the details of the complicated mystery.

He finished the story by trailing kisses up to the edge of her knickers and tugging down the elastic waistband with his teeth. She laughed and reached down to push the fabric over her hips.

“Too damn long. Hurry up.”

“Oh god yes.” John yanked her knickers the rest of the way down her legs and pushed her night dress up over her belly before returning to his elbows. “Fuck I missed this. What was I thinking being away this long?”

Mary cradled her husband’s head, stroking his freshly cut hair as she pressed his face to her. He worshiped her with his eyes before his tongue slid between her folds and teased her clit. Just before she gave into the sensation of his loving, Mary laughed and John looked up at her with eyebrows raised, a question in his eyes.

“Honestly, John, such a drama queen sometimes. You’ve only been gone five hours.”

John grinned and leaned in to continue showing her just how desperately he’d missed her.


	3. The Game

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is the threesome chapter, explicit with bondage, vaginal and oral sex.

The rules were simple. They disappeared, and John tracked them. It would have been easy for Sherlock, but the detective was the prey in this game, and knew how to avoid being found.  He and Mary were off by the time John arrived home from the clinic, and the note told John it was time for their monthly round of Catch-Me-If-You-Can. Couldn’t let their doctor get too dull, could they. There were never many clues left on the table with the note, and there were fewer each month. To make it trickier, half the clues were meaningless. Sherlock and Mary expected him to improve at the game, for him to find them before they finished.

John took off into the night, tracking the first clue: a bill faded almost into illegibility that led to a Mexican restaurant where they had dined once. From there, the next clue brought him to a tavern where a fight was in progress. He barely made it out with another clue that sent him clear across London, realizing he was taking longer than he had in months. He was starting to wonder if he’d followed one of the false trails when he came upon an address that resembled the letters scrawled on the bar bill he’d been passed from the barman just before the man’s nose had been broken. He stood in front of a condemned building that looked ready to fall at any moment.

“Oh fuck me, getting worse every time.” John shook his head ruefully and jogged around the building, looking for an entrance. A homeless man out back threw a bottle at him and John again considered that he’d gotten the address wrong, but then stopped and turned.

The homeless man and his oversized bag were huddled in front of a splintered wooden door. _A-ha._ Ten quid had the man feeling more gracious and stepping out of his way, and John gingerly pressing through the doorway. The stairway in front of him looked surprisingly sturdy and well-maintained. John cocked an ear, and was rewarded with the distant sounds of a moan. He grinned.

Hurrying now, he ran the rest of the way with his heart racing. The sounds grew louder as he neared, and as he rounded the corner of the hallway, he saw them.

Bent over a sawhorse, her wrists spread far apart and tied to the wood contraption was Mary. Her skirt and knickers lay on the floor at her feet, and Sherlock was pressed tightly to her, his cock thrusting into her while Mary groaned his name and wiggled helplessly. Her eyes squeezed shut, she didn’t see John approaching. 

Sherlock smirked, meeting John’s gaze while he pumped into Mary. “Took so long, we’re almost finished.”

Mary’s eyes snapped open. She smiled up at John. “Sweetie! Finally.”

He stripped off his jacket, dropped it on the ground and ducked down to kiss his wife. Then he circled around and pushed Sherlock back. “Fuck off, the clues were ridiculous this time.”

Sherlock shoved a condom packet in his hand. “You were sloppy. Everything was there that you needed.”

Jittery with excitement after the long buildup, it took him two tries to get the condom on right, but he was sliding into Mary’s pussy in a heartbeat. She bucked back into him gratefully, and smiled when Sherlock came around the front of the sawhorse. He slipped his cock into her mouth, and Mary swallowed him deep, rolling his length over her tongue and bobbing. She licked and sucked, teasing with her tongue until her orgasm built and she grew messy. She gasped around Sherlock’s cock, crying out as she came and he pulled back, stroking himself into cumming at the sight of her being fucked so hard.

“Last again, John?” Sherlock taunted, still short of breath.

Ignoring his best friend’s jibe, John rode his wife, his hips slapping into her arse. Every month it got better- the drawn-out chase, the strange locations, Mary’s preparations at Sherlock’s thorough hands. A moment later, he came so hard he saw white and grew dizzy.

Kissing Mary and cutting her free from the sawhorse, John straightened her up and rubbed her wrists. He and Sherlock held her in an embrace, and Mary kissed each of them tenderly. The game was over, and in the end, they always won.


	4. The First Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John and Mary's wedding night.
> 
> This chapter is explicit.

Their friends had all told them they would be too tired on their wedding night. That after spending all day in restrictive clothing, tight shoes, and being forced to socialize with everyone they’d ever met, they’d be too exhausted to make love. After Sherlock’s revelation that she was pregnant, John assumed that Mary would be too shocked and too tired, and would quickly pass out in their hotel bed for a good night’s rest before their flight out the next morning.

But when they arrived at the airport hotel room, and got ready for bed, John found a very awake Mrs. Watson waiting for him under the covers. Her hands roaming over his belly and lower, he kissed her throat and grinned. “Isn’t that how we got into this situation to begin with?” Mary laughed. Her smooth fingers tightened around his cock and he rolled onto his side toward her. Their mouths came together, as Mary stroked him to hardness. But when he moved to roll her nightdress up and climb atop her, Mary brushed his hands aside, and pushed John onto his back.

Mary straddled her new husband, settling into his lap and pulled her nightdress over her head. John looked up at her adoringly, and cupped her breasts, thumbing her nipples. She caressed his cheek, and smiled. “This is all going to change already. My body, everything. We hadn’t planned it so soon. Are you ready?” In the darkness, he nodded, and spoke softly, “Yes. I love you.” He slid a hand down to hold his cock and between her thighs, positioned himself at her entrance. Mary shifted her hips and covering his hand with hers, guided him inside her and rocked. They moved and moaned together. “I love you. _I love you._ ”


	5. Conception

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was a question of conception. 
> 
> Another explicit chapter.

They were never able to pin down the exact date, as there was rather a lot of activity that week, but they _were_ certain, considering the general timing, of where their baby had been conceived.

A pipe had burst in their flat, and with the wedding so close and funds tight, Sherlock insisted they stay at Baker Street for the week. He took the sofa (when he bothered to sleep) and offered up his bed to John and Mary. They hadn’t had sex in Sherlock’s bed, god _of course_ not. That would be borderline incestuous, as John saw it. But the chair…and the kitchen table…and the counter…and the shower…well, those were fair game.

When Sherlock was out playing with corpses at Barts, Mary found herself bent over every piece of furniture in the sitting room, gasping and spreading for her husband’s thick cock. In the shower, they laughed and slid around, soapy and teasing one another until he slid into her from behind. In the kitchen, he laid her out like a feast, and licked her clit until she was begging to be fucked.

In the end, it didn’t matter what day they conceived. But Mary and John’s daughter was certainly created with a great deal of enthusiasm and love.


	6. Favorites

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ficlet of what John and Mary love about each other, inspired by an anon who didn't really understand the Warstan pairing.

Although if she’d asked, he would have claimed it was her eyes, John’s favorite part of Mary’s body was the valley between her breasts. When he’d kiss the sensitive spot, she would shudder and squeeze her thighs around him. He loved the way she scratched at his back and forced his head lower until she was burying his face in her cunt and riding his tongue.  John loved her eyes and the valley of her breasts, but Mary loved his tongue most of all.


	7. Ch-ch-changes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: “Pregnancy sex”

“Look at my nipples, John. You need to see them.”

“I’m almost positive I’ve seen your nipples before, Mary. In fact they’re one of your top qualities.” She could hear the grin in his voice over the mobile.

“Shut up, you impossible man. Open your mail and look at the photos. _They’re dark purple.”_

Mary heard the slow clack-clack of John’s infuriatingly slow typing as he checked his email. In the meantime, she once again peered down her blouse to confirm that she wasn’t seeing things.

“Huh.” John’s voice was full of wonder. “That’s …interesting.”

“Interesting? It’s bizarre. I know about the linea nigra and the discolorations of other parts but honestly no one ever said anything about purple nipples! I’ve never worked in obstetrics, John. Is this normal?!”

“Hmm maybe I should come home and have a look. Right. I’m on my way.”

—————————————————————————

John tossed his keys and jacket onto the counter and made a beeline for the hem of Mary’s blouse. “Let’s have a look!”

Mary tugged her shirt over her head and nudged her bra straps over her shoulders. Her breasts spilled from the cups of her bra, pregnancy having increased their size considerably.

“Have a seat on the sofa, get comfortable,” John said as he led her over. “Are you feeling any pain in your breasts, any unusual tenderness?”

“Nothing new, just the usual I’ve had since I got pregnant. Not as bad the first trimester, even.” Mary sat carefully, working around her round belly, and John joined her, sliding an arm around her. He kissed her gently, and then fiercely as she turned to him and wrapped her arms around his shoulders.

“Always nice to have you home for lunch, Dr. Watson,” she murmured, smiling. “Am I alright then? You don’t seem worried.”

He grinned. “You’re fine. Totally normal symptom, increased blood flow to the nipples, can even make them look blue sometimes.” He traced her nipples with his thumbs and she shuddered. “But I’m guessing you figured that out with Google within thirty seconds, Mrs.Watson.”

Mary bit her lip, trying to hide her smile, but John tilted her face up with a finger under her chin. Unable to hold back any longer, laughter spilled from her and John kissed her breathless, caressing her sensitive nipples as their mouths joined.

“Since you got me here,” he said between kisses. “May as well use me properly.”

“That was the idea,” she said, shoving his jacket off his shoulders and yanking at his buttons. “Took you long enough to work it out. We’ve only got a few weeks until we probably can’t do this at all for a while.”

Mary pressed his face to her breasts, and a dark nipple slipped between his lips. John kissed and sucked until she moaned and arched into him.

“Well that is interesting,” he remarked. “Bedroom now, Mrs. Watson. I think we need a closer examination. The photos really didn’t-“ he paused and bent to flick his tongue over her nipple again and she wriggled against him- “ really didn’t do the situation justice.”


End file.
